


On the way to the in between

by Calla_Lilalma



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: It's basically plotless tbh, M/M, Spoilers for S05Ep4, Spoilers for Season 5, it's shippy but not too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 10:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14018691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calla_Lilalma/pseuds/Calla_Lilalma
Summary: My take on how Lotor and Shiro arrived at the Kral Zera.





	On the way to the in between

**Author's Note:**

> Hei everyone! It's really late and I have classes tomorrow so i'm a bit delurious.  
> Firstly, I want to say that I love Lotor to bits and season 5 was just right for me! Whatever happens to his character, i'm on board and cheering for him!  
> Secondly, this is a bunch of hypothetical scenarios that may be cancelled by the next seasons, but I had to write it, you know? I also have left in the air what's the matter with Shiro. Maybe clone theory, maybe mind control, who knows?  
> Lastly, this is kind of a practice for me to write dialogue, because not only I have the feeling i suck at it, it's also a bit tedious to write. I'm trying to improve and i hope i did okay!  
> Comments and Kudos are welcome!  
> Enjoy!

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Lotor watches as the black paladin, Shiro, exits the control room in a hurry to get away from the rest of his comrades, his steps rapid, back tensed and fist clenched like he’s ready to engage in battle at any further provocation. There are small hints on his metal arm flickering to activation, small enough to pass unnoticed by non-experts or Galra technology and science.

“Um, what’s wrong with Shiro?”

No one actively answers the yellow paladin’s question, their gazes still on the door that just closed. The faces of the paladins as well as those of the Alteans are laced with concern and confusion about their leader’s snap. The Blue Paladin’s jaw is clenched but his eyes betray the frustration beneath the pretend anger.

However, the anger of the Green Paladin is very much real and addressed to him in particular.

“It’s all your fault!” she yells, swinging her tiny fists in the air as if it poses a threat.

“Hey now Pidge, no need to start a fight.” The yellow Paladin holds her in place by the arms, her legs moving uncontrollably. It’d be a funny situation if not for the abhorrent timing.

“Are you serious Hunk? From the moment he appeared here, all we do is fighting for his sake! He’s using the good old ‘divide and conquer’ on us! A tyrant just like his father!”

The rest of the room freezes at the early mention of his now late father and he’d be quite amused that they would care enough to be careful on stepping in that area, despite their attitude towards him.

But Lotor is already tense and his dominant hand, the one he used to kill his father, feels heavy, like the weapon never left it.

“If it wasn’t for me, it’d be your father rotting away in a prison cell, building weapons for the Galra armies with goal to take Voltron and obliterate you in the process.” He states calmly, “ _Your leader_ trusted me with his black bayard and left you in the dark. Tell me, Paladin, who is dividing you here?”

They’re the right words to shock her motionless, the effect spreading to the rest of the team. All eyes are on him, but he keeps his head high, using his height advantage to perhaps intimidate the Green Paladin, who is still processing his words.

“Don’t-” she pauses to control her erratic breathing and her shaking rage, “Don’t _you dare_ speak of my dad you-”

“That’s _enough_!” Allura finally intervenes, stepping between them and holding her palm towards her seething teammate, “Everyone calm down.”

“If you’ll excuse me Princess,” Lotor starts, his gaze focusing on Allura on the efforts on being respectful, “I understand that matters of the team should not be heard by,” he pauses, “unwelcomed ears. So I’d like to recuse myself.”

The princess’ eyes are soft, almost pitiful, probably from the words they exchanged before they met the others and he has to press his lips tightly together to keep them from snarling.

“You cause all this disaster and then you ask to leave.”

Allura takes a tick to glare at the Blue Paladin for his remark and then sighs tiredly, “I believe everyone is worked up from the current events. Let’s take a little time to process everything before making unnecessary remarks.” Her tone is authoritarian enough to keep the two rowdy paladins silent.

~~

There are no quarters designated for him as he didn’t need them from sleeping on the prison cell and he politely refuses Allura’s offer to give him. Uncomfortably sneaking in sleep from a seat on a ship or fighter, ready to wake to alertness at the slightest sound has become normal and more safe than sleeping for long periods of time.

He doesn’t return to the control room even when the paladins have finished their discussions, instead opting for wandering on the ship for the perfect  place to sit and make up a plan for his course of action. He finds it sooner than later on an empty room with transparent windows, like another, smaller observatory.

The infinite blackness of space is another comforting and safe thing to him, especially since his exile when he knew how to pave his way into the darkness.

There are some minor meteors and the more obvious remains of some Galra ships that indicate how they are headed in the opposite direction he desired, away from Feyiv and the Kral Zera.

Time is running out and his opportunity of being emperor is slipping away from his fingers.

There is no doubt that all the other generals are already on their way to Feyiv to try and claim the throne. _His_ throne.

If he manages to convince the paladins to change their course, then he’ll surely arrive on time. However, judging from the reactions from the paladins, it will be tougher than he thought.

With a sigh, he exits the empty room and walks back, to find the princess and have a conversation in hopes he’ll convince her. Out of everyone, she’s the most rational one and he is honestly in no mood to stand all the yelling the paladins make.

A few steps in and there is a hand wrapped around his wrist and pulling him into another room. Lotor immediately goes for the defensive, using his strength to pull the attacker and twist the arm in order to let him go. His mind works according to instinct first and the logic kicks in second when he’d already swept the attacker from their feet and using his own weight to straddle and immobilize them, his blade activated by now and close to the other’s neck.

The ominous silence turns into an unsettling and awkward one as Lotor realizes that this other person is in fact Shiro, the black paladin.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have startled you…” He speaks guiltily, avoiding Lotor’s gaze. He sounds more sheepish than he should, faced with the fact that he was almost killed.

“Um…” the paladins voice breaks and he takes him in with a red face, “Could you, um, get off of me?”

Lotor sighs before retracting his blade and lifting himself up. He gives a hand to Shiro, who takes it with his non-Galra one and pulls him up.

“Well?” he asks, “As fun as this was, I am quite busy at the moment.” He turns to leave, only for his hand to be grabbed again.

It makes Lotor smirk and raise an eyebrow, strangely more curious than annoyed.

“Do you need something?”

Shiro looks at his hand on his wrist before letting go as if burned, the color returning to his face.

He takes a couple of breaths and Lotor is about to snap about his wasted time before Shiro looks at him straight in the eyes.

“I’m taking you to the Kral Zera.”

Lotor remembers first catching a glimpse at Shiro, back when he was his father’s prisoner and forced to fight for his life. It was a fleeting meeting to report to him about his work at the planet he was assigned. It was an obvious effort to keep him restrained from repeating his mistake those centuries ago, to not ‘get soft’ as Zakron reprimanded and lectured him.

He had seen the man now standing in front of him, using a Galra prosthetic to kill to survive. How his eyes where hardened by the task, but fierce and kind still buried underneath. When they were burning with resolution even when he realizing he was slowly losing himself, determined not to let his ‘humanity’ abandon him.

Now, those eyes are looking at him, promising that he will take him to the Kral Zera.

However, there is something different about them.

The initial shock passes him, replaced by skepticism, “Oh really? And what about your little quarrel with your teammates?” he crosses his arms over his chest.

_Ah, there it is_ , one difference in the eyes that takes him aback. He sees some kind of darkness in them, dulling their pure silver color. But as soon as it comes, it goes with a flicker.

“I will to them realizing their mistake later. Now it’s a priority getting you to Feyiv as soon as possible.”

“And I’m guessing you have a plan, if you’re so eager to come to me this strongly.” He assumes that the repeated redness and the averting of his gaze are human signs of embarrassment, not unlike some Galra in a way, where not looking someone in the eyes shows submission.

“You said that you’ll need Voltron for this. Maybe that’s impossible for now,” Shiro smirks coyly, “but the black lion and its pilot are still at your side.”

“My father’s old lion.” He feels like his breath has left his lungs but his feels a grin weakly pulling up his lips, “The one thing he lost and couldn’t get back, no matter how desperately he tried. That would be excellent indeed.”

“So, if we leave now-”

“Of course we leave now. There is no time to waste.”

~~

The don’t take the hangers as it’d alert the others, but they pace through the multiple hallways of the castle until they finally arrive to where the lions rest.

It’s another different feeling seeing them standing tall and peaceful, immobile as there is no battle to fight yet. They are still imposing by all means, but now that they are so close, Lotor finally has the chance to admire those creations.

The black one is larger than the rest, obviously as it also serves as the torso of Voltron during their formation.  When he and Shiro approach it, it bends and opens its mouth for them to come is.

Lotor follows behind Shiro, careful not to show his eagerness and his curiosity.

He fails spectacularly when they step into it and he gets a full look at its interior.

It’s all a pristine white, clean cut and lean; an impressive job of making them out the meteor. His hands itch in another, more pleasant manner than before, an efficient distraction from the heaviness of everything currently happening.

The control room of the black lion is even more impressive than the rest.  A lone pilot’s chair and all the panels, reminding a normal ship or fighter but so much more.

His enthusiasm has caught Shiro’s attention as he turns to him with an amused smile.

“You can look around if you want. She won’t bite you unless I say so.”

And Lotor does. He touches the walls with his fingertips, almost afraid it will all dissipate in front of his eye and be some kind of illusion and he’s still in the cell or worse like the witch Haggar did something to him.

He snaps his head towards Shiro, who’s laughing audibly, one hand covering his mouth but his shoulders are shaking. He looks like an complete different person than the one arguing with the other paladins.

“Is there something wrong?” he asks, crossing his arms and frowning.

“No. no, no.” Shiro tries to reign his laughter, “Everything’s good. It’s just that you remind me of a child in an amusement park.”

“Well, it’s the black lion, a peak of Altean alchemy and one of the greatest weapons made across the galaxies, as you’ve realized. Just studying on it is not as marvelous as seeing it from up close. King Alfor did a truly magnificent specimen here.”

His expression turns more serious as he steps closer to Shiro and it’s his turn to grasp the other’s hands in his own softly but with a squeeze firm enough to communicate his feelings.

“I’m really grateful to you, Shiro.” he musters all the serious sincerity he can.

Shiro’s face reddens again as he frantically looks from their connected hands to Lotor’s face.

“I- I appreciate it?” he clears his throat, “The lion, yes. We have to leave now and it’s not going to fly itself, will it?”

Lotor lets go of his hands and hums in question, “Every ship has an automatic pilot, it’d be strange if the lions didn’t.”

He settles on watching amused as Shiro sputters around and takes his seat and starts the black lion.

The whole room ignites in lights and they move as silently as possible towards the exit, lunching themselves into the deep space and boosting away from the castle.

 ~~

The lions’ architecture and material aren’t their only admirable features, he finds out later. Due to the nature of the meteor and as his findings say the lions are particularly sentient creatures, with their own aura. And that it also connects strongly to their pilots, all of them as the theory extends, and their frame of mind. Therefore the state of the bonds between pilots and lions are the key to forming Voltron. This is essentially common but fundamental knowledge.

Due to this information, he doesn’t find it surprising when he doesn’t feel anything as Shiro and his journey to Feyiv begins. He gives the other the necessary directions to the planet, learned to heart by now for this very moment. Lotor is sure that he can get to Feyiv even from the other end of the universe.

There is silence between them; only the mechanisms of the lions whirring and roaring to functionality and the heaviness of their thoughts. Lotor is absentmindedly looking at space once more, thinking of his plan once they arrive. How will he face his rivals to the throne. He remembers each and every one of them, all potentials that must be stopped, with strengths and weaknesses that can be used to crush him or crush themselves.

It all weights his mind until he decides to close his eyes and lean back to the wall of the floor he’d taken a seat.

It was meant to be for a fleeting moment, to rest his eyes but slowly he feels the moments pass by and he still won’t. A feeling of the weight being gently carries away from him sips into him and he can find it in himself to fight it. It resembles a soothing touch of a hand, maybe by its feel but he doesn’t have that experience to compare, but the visuals he had of his former generals petting Narti’s four-legged companion to its heart’s content and many times to slumber. Maybe this is how it feels, he muses.

In a moment’s notice, that peace of mind is disturbed by the feel of something inching closer to him. Opening his eyes after he raises this arm in defense, he realizes again that it’s in fact shiro, extending his metal arm to touch his shoulder, now stopped by Lotor’s forearm.

“You never learn, don’t you?” he asks with mirth, enjoying the way the paladin becomes speechless.

“You were asleep in quite a while, I came to checked on you.” His eyes widen at the words. It didn’t feel like more than a few ticks.

“Have we arrived?” he responds in worry. It’d be quite problematic to be sluggish in the Kral Zera.

“No, it’s fine. We’re a little over halfway. Don’t worry.” A pale hand is offered to him and Lotor stares at it hesitantly, but he takes it nevertheless and lets himself be pulled up to his feet; with quite a strain, he notices with amusement and much to Shiro’s detriment.

After that, the silence comes back. And the situation is repeated.

The only thing that changes is that at times, he takes a break from his thoughts and steals a glance towards Shiro, who seems out of his skin now. He’s fidgety and needlessly staring at the control panels for too long, pupils moving in a frantic pace as he reads the symbols. Other times, he’ll have to hide his smirk when he catches the other looking and doing his best to pretend he wasn’t.

Then a signal is send to the lion from the castle, disturbing the atmosphere.

The letters flash, pleading for Shiro to answer them and explain the situation. Lotor can imagine Allura’s face, full of concerned anger for her friend and seeking only to hear him safe instead of demanding explanations and suspecting treason. She is the Altean princess after all and succeeding the expectations he had upon imagining the person bearing the title.

Shiro is prompt to cut the signal out, even making the lion increase its speed to their destination.

They pass another overly familiar planet and Lotor’s mind focuses once more at the task at hand.

“Be cautious of the Galra ships. If all the opponents I suspect are present, they  have put guards to eliminate others early.”

“The fewer, the better huh?”

“Precisely.” He agrees, “There will no glory in taking out every small fry that fancies themselves emperor. Only fighting the strong will make this a true test.”

“Just like the arena.” Shiro sighs, “But now that Zakron is…gone this can stop if you take the throne.”

“ _When_ I take the throne.” He corrects, “But it isn’t that simple. The Galra customs are heavily tied with combat, from the arena to make the best warrior, to the Kral Zera itself. The rules of combat are the only ones every Galra universally agrees to obey which is the reason that the Kral Zera is so important. Once the new emperor is decided, it is law until the next one.”

“So you say that this isn’t going to stop.”

“For you, it will. With enough vigor the trials can be reverted back to how it was on Daibazaal, where the historic logs say that it was fairer and mostly voluntary to test one’s abilities. It is said that many criminals opted to risk their lives in the arena and if they were good enough, they would be enlisted in a special military unit.”

“So the Galra have always been true to the ‘victory or death’ they always say.”

“I suppose only the meaning of victory has changed.”

Shiro is now looking at his face a little too searchingly but Lotor has an impassive expression on that no one has managed to crack. He stares back and there is again a feeling that makes him mind his words. Even if he is in the infamous black lion, he mustn’t let down his guard, even though he doubts that Shiro will try to assassinate him now that he’s put himself in line to get him to Feyiv. From what he’s experienced, the paladins of Voltron are virtuous above all, sometimes to a fault.

That and the fact that he believes he can take the other if the need arise.

“Speaking of things that are gone, I have been wondering about your red paladin?”

He sees the other tense but trying to mask it with confusion.

“Lance was there all along, haven’t you-”

“I mean the real one. The one that actually wear the suit matched to the lion’s color.”

“You suspect that only because of the colors?” Shiro tries to avoid answering and Lotor decides to indulge him just this once.

“From all the times that I’ve encountered the lions, there seemed to have been different strategies and formations. The first time, it was chaotic, to say the least.” He pauses to check at Shiro’s distressed reactions, “I seemed like the paladins weren’t in control of the lions, and the leader worked in a purely egotistical manner. It was disappointing compared to the rumors. It continued for a while and then it changed to something more organized.”

Shiro is rendered speechless, maybe he didn’t think it would be so obvious, that no one would realize.

“The red paladin, Keith, isn’t here.”

Lotor stays silent, feeling the other cracking.

“He’s doing his own stuff. He was the black paladin for a while when I was …injured and couldn’t help. It was probably him in the reigns that first time.”

“Has he quit bei-”

“NO!” Shiro snaps and turns to glare at him, “He’d never do that! And he isn’t an egotistical leader either! The first time leading can be tough and pressuring, but he did well in the end. He’s helping us in another way.”

“As a part of the coalition then.”

Shiro’s pressing of his lips confirms it.

“Interesting.” Lotor hums, “Maybe that’s why there is tensions in the castle. Absence makes the heart grow fonder as they say. Missing your beloved must be putting you on edge.”

“He’s not my beloved!” Shiro exclaims passionately again, “Not in the way you mean at least. He’s like my brother and he’s saved me time and time again selflessly.” He looks at Lotor with a hidden conviction, “Besides, there is another in my mind for that position.”

Lotor doesn’t know how to answer that as he understands the words by not the emotion behind them. Nor his own irritation at them.

“Well, I wish you the best.” He ends warily. Shiro’s gaze turns incredulous, almost comically so.

But it becomes irrelevant when Feyiv is on sight, surrounded by Galra ships on hold, ready to destroy one another. Even so, at the sight of the black lion approaching, he doesn’t want to risk it.

“Can you maneuver outside their radars?” he asks Shiro.

“Pidge has installed an invisible cloak, we’ll be there soon.”

“Very well.” He steels himself, his sword ready to activate in his hand, itching once again.

They thread carefully around the ships and soon they’re inside Feyiv’s atmosphere.

“The fire hasn’t been lit yet.” It comes off of his lips as a sign of relief, even when he sees silhouettes of some familiar faces. Sendak’s bionic arm is visible even from this distance.

He walks to the place where they entered the lion, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  Two deep breaths.

He can’t let his confidence crumble down, not when he’s so close, when he can feel the fire warming him and the altar that had his father’s flame now dark and waiting.

“Open it.” He says, mostly to himself, but audibly enough for Shiro to hear.

The lion’s jaws don’t part and he turns to ask the reason  when he hears and feels Shiro coming towards him.

He grabs him by the hand, for the first time that he’s actually conscious. Before he can say anything he’s rudely pulled down to the other’s height. The hairs on the back of his neck raise at the feel of the cool metal gently grabbing him by the nape even closer.

Lotor doesn’t have the time to process what’s happening and voice it as cool, slightly chapped lips are pressed on his own in a kiss, a common way to show affection as his mind remembers.

The lips stay upon his for a tick or two, pressing eagerly but not intruding or forcing anything. Just hard enough to be real and remembered. Lotor is unable to do anything besides stay leaned down until it’s over. His mind is racing among questions but he focuses on not accidentally slaying him with his sword.

Shiro’s lips leave his and he smiles warmly, eyes now just like the ones he’d seen on the arena; earnest, kind and determined, tinted with childishness.

“Don’t look back. I’ll cover you.” He states and heads to his seat.

His eyes widen at the thought. It’s incredulous, he can’t undo millennia of guarding himself and relying on no one. And now at the Kral Zera, it’s what it’s demanded of him. To show his own strength.

The words, however, are half hollow of that meaning. It takes him a tick to connect the dots of those past events, from Shiro’s faces, reactions and words, to his own unknown bits.

But they can wait. He wasn’t planning on his defeat before and he doesn’t now. Not when there are so many things to learn and explore and fix and _everything_.

“Open it.” This’s more confident, an order. His head is held high and his hand is calm, steady and pulsing with anticipation.

The lion opens its mouth and the altar is standing proud with the archivist next to it waiting for no one has made it even halfway. Then he looks at his opponents. Of course the witch is there, so is everyone he expected. Their eyes are on him.

“Halt! Your new emperor has arrived!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hoped you enjoyed.  
> I'm always a bit nervous when writing a first work for a fandom but due to the late hour, i'm too exhasuted to be so!  
> For that same reason, there might be mistakes on it that are too eye catching. Please bear with me.  
> Thank you for reading and goodnight!


End file.
